Sea shanties and maritime music

[The chanty] is not recreation, it is an essential part of the work on ship-board, it mastheads the topsail yards when making sail, it starts and weighs the anchor, it brings
down the main-tack with a will, it loads and unloads the cargo, it keeps the pumps a-going; in fact, it does all the work where unison and strength are required. I have
heard many an old salt say that a good chanty was worth an extra hand.


Laura Alexandrine Smith, The Music of the Waters, 1888

This Day in History (February 29, 1908)

This Day in History (January 8, 1806)

The death of Lord Nelson was a national tragedy like no other for England. "From Greenwich to Whitehall Stairs, on the 8th of January, 1806, in one of the greatest Aquatic Processions that ever was beheld on the River Thames" drifted the royal shallop (barge). The event is referenced in the modern lament, Carrying Nelson Home. Nelson is mentioned in nearly a dozen other songs.

Try a random shanty sampling

The Dolphin
Forecastle song

Our ship she laid in harbour, in Liverpool docks and more,
Awaiting for fresh orders her anchor for to weigh;
Bound down to the coast of Africa, our orders did run so:
We’re going to sink and destroy, my boys, no matter where we go.

We had not been sailing scarce fifty leagues or more,
When we espied a lofty ship and down on us he bore;
He hailed us in French colours, he asked us where and whence we came.
“We just come down from Liverpool town and the Dolphin is our name.”

“Are you a man-of-war, sir? Pray tell me what you be.”
“I am no man-of-war, sir, but a pirate ship you see.
Come heave up your fore and main yards and let your ship come to,
Our tackles are overhauled and our boats are all lowered, or else we will sink you.”

Now our Captain stood on the quarterdeck, he was brave and fearless too.
“It’s three to one against us,” he cried out to his crew;
“If it hadn’t have been for my younger brother, this battle would never been tried.
Let every man stand true to his guns and we’ll give to them a broadside.”

Now broadside to broadside which caused all hands to wonder,
To see that French lofty’s mast come rattling down like thunder;
We shot them from our quarterdeck ‘til they could no longer stay,
Our guns being smart and we played a fine part and we gave them Liverpool play.

Now this large French ship was taken and in Liverpool docks was moored,
We fired shots to our sweethearts with the nice little girls on shore;
We lowered down the French colours, and we hoisted the red, white and blue,
We’ll drink success to the Dolphin and all her jovial crew.

Will Watch
Forecastle song

One morn when the wind from the northward blew keenly,
While sullenly roared the big waves of the main,
A famed smuggler, Will Watch, kissed his Sue, then
serenely took helm, and to sea boldly steered out again.
Will had promised his Sue that this trap, if well ended,
Should coil up his ropes, and he'd anchor on shore;
When his pockets were lined, why his life should be mended
The laws he had broken he'd never break more.

His sea-boat was trim—made her port—took her lading,
Then Will stood to sea, reached the offing, and cried,
"This night, if I've luck, furls the sails of my trading.
In dock I can lay—serve a friend too beside."
He lay to till night came on darksome and dreary,
To crowd every sail then he piped up all hands;
But a signal soon spied—'twas a prospect uncheerly,
A signal that warned him to bear from the land.

"The Philistines are out," cries Will, "we'll take no heed on't,
Attacked, who's the man that will flinch from his gun?
Should my head be blown off I shall ne'er feel the need on't,
We'll fight while we can ; when we can't, boys, we'll run."
Thro' the haze of the night a bright flash now appearing,
"Oh ho!" cries Will Watch, "the Philistines bear down.
Bear a hand, my tight lads, ere we think about sheering,
Our broadside pour in should we swim, boys, or drown."

'But should I be popped off, you, my mates left behind me,
Regard my last words, see 'em kindly obeyed.
Let no stone mark the spot, and, my friends, do you mind me.
Near the beach is the grave where Will Watch should be laid."
Poor Will's yarn was spun out—for a bullet next minute
Laid him low on the deck and he never spoke more;
His bold crew fought the brig while a shot remained in it,
Then sheered, and Will's hulk to his Susan they bore.

In the dead of the night his last wish was complied with,
To few known his grave and to few known his end;
He was borne to the earth by the crew that he died with;
He'd the tears of his Susan, the prayers of each friend.
Near his grave dash the billows, the winds loudly bellow,
Yon ash struck with lightning points out the cold bed
Where Will Watch, the bold smuggler, that famed lawless fellow,
Once feared — now forgot — sleeps in peace with the dead.